


moonflower

by imagymnasia



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Chillin in a garden, F/F, Two Moms, zero feet apart 'cause they're super gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagymnasia/pseuds/imagymnasia
Summary: Prompt:"Flowers need sunlight to bloom, but maybe some flourish the most under the gentle embrace of the night." Nyx and Persephone talk, when the house is quietest. A lot is spoken, much is unsaid."
Relationships: Nyx/Persephone (Hades Video Game), bg Hades/Persephone/Nyx if you squint
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33
Collections: Hades Rural Dionysia Exchange





	moonflower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mamichigo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamichigo/gifts).



Persephone couldn’t sleep.

Not that she needed to.

It had been years since she left the Underworld and its changeless eternity, and although she had no use for it, she was accustomed to the passage of time on the surface. There, the cycle above had been vital to the plants under her care. Here in the evernight, she missed the rhythm of sunrise-light, sunset-dark.

From the moment she had met Zagreus—the moment she had known that her son was _alive_ —Persephone had considered returning to the Underworld. It had been but a speck of an idea; a single drop of ink in the pool of her mind, its color blooming and swirling and seeping into her every thoughtful moment:

_Her son was alive. She should be with him._

Yet Zagreus could not spend much time on the surface, and every moment that passed there brought him great suffering. She had wanted to go to him straight away, but the pains of her past held her back. She was _happy_ on the surface--and there were the Olympians to think of. Returning would not solve all, or even most, of her family’s problems.

Yet here she was, trying to do just that. She had returned to a son who did not know her, a husband whose love did not outweigh his flaws, a realm where she did not belong and had no right to rule. If that were not enough, Persephone carried her own shortcomings with her, as surely as Charon had ferried her down the Styx. It had not been a decision made lightly, yet neither was it one she regretted.

At least so far. 

Still, she missed her hut and her garden and the contented solitude she had cultivated in a space all her own. So it was that Persephone found herself another garden— _her_ garden, as much as the last, this one filled with pomegranate trees and fond memories and open to the House once again.

She was surprised to find it empty, now. Zagreus was notably absent; he had hardly left her side this day or night, peppering her with questions and trying _so hard_ (perhaps too hard) to impress her. His mother’s return was by no means a cure-all—the animosity between father and son still lingered, and he was as unused to calling her Mother as she to call him Son. Zagreus needed his own time to process things. In his case, that likely meant he was off slaying shades in the other realms to take his mind off things for a time.

He was like his father in that way, she mused: keeping himself busy to avoid dealing with his feelings. It was a shame that he and Hades had such a tenuous relationship, for she saw so many similarities in the two of them. She hoped it could be mended, yet, perhaps with patience and time. That was one thing they had in ample supply: time. Patience… Well. Patience they would have to work on.

It was dark in the garden as Persephone wandered beneath her trees, greeting each with a delicate touch of hand to bark. It was always dark in the Underworld, but there was light enough to see even beneath the boughs of the poms. Nyx had long ago enchanted this space (with Hades’ permission, nay, insistence) with something akin to moonlight. What Persephone, goddess of all that grows, had brought to life here ages ago was still thriving, and it was a comfort to see it.

She could not take all the credit for that, either. 

It was endearing, knowing that her garden (children of spirit if not of body) had been cared for in her absence. _Hades’ doing_. Her heart did a little skip at the thought. It could only be him: the garden had been barred after her departure, and the House has forgotten it. Zagreus had not even known of its existence, and though Nyx had the power to do as she wished, she would not have tested Hades’ temper for a glimpse at earthen things she had no fondness for.

It was surprising, then, when Nyx’s soft voice floated through the gate behind her: “It is good to have the garden open once again.”

“It is a very different garden from the one above,” said Persephone, turning to face her, “but I did miss these, from time to time.”

For the first time in what felt like eons, she looked at Nyx—truly looked at her, taking her time and drinking in every detail. It was hard not to compare this Nyx with the one she had left behind so long ago. Gods were mostly unchanging, choosing their forms more than aging as the mortals did; and it had not been long enough in _their_ time to have altered their appearances much. Nyx was much as she had always been: her hair, still long and silken and floating in sensual, sparkling shadows; her pale, ashen skin, smooth as alabaster and leagues finer than anything hands either mortal or immortal could craft; lips tinted the deep indigo of duskfall, tilted just so in something like thoughtfulness.

Yet there was a different light in her golden eyes, subtle but unmistakable. Fondness, perhaps, and something like new life. If anyone knew something about life, it was Persephone.

“You look well, my dear friend,” she said. It was not all she wished to say, but it would do. “It brings me joy to see you again.”

“And I you, My Queen.” Nyx did not smile, but there was an obvious fondness in her voice. She tilted her head, gaze steady and searching. Persephone returned it, smiling sunshine-bright.

“Please, call me Persephone. We are past all that now, aren’t we?”

Nyx stepped beneath the boughs, turning her gaze to the trees.

“Your garden, it is glad to see you. Lord Hades has done his best in your absence, but it flourishes in your presence. As do most things.” Persephone felt a thrill run through her, an old, familiar warmth that made her half-blood heart thrum with excitement. “When you left, I dared not hope to see you return.”

“I never intended to,” she answered. “But Zagreus, he is persistent. We have his stubborn heart to thank for this.” 

Zagreus. Her son. Her son, who _lived_.

And before her stood the woman who had raised him in her stead.

It would not do to be bitter about something she could not change. Persephone knew that, deep down. But she would forever have to live with the fact that another woman—even one whom she loved with all her soul—had been the mother she should have been. It was a deep hurt, but one she could no more change than her own nature. 

Eternity was a long time to carry a burden, so Persephone chose to set it down.

“But you, Nyx—you played a part in all this, didn’t you?” she added, voice soft. “Zagreus said you were the one who encouraged this… quest of his.” On anyone else, Nyx’s expression might have been one of displeasure. Persephone knew it for what it was. “Nyx, please. No need to be modest. You put him in touch with Athena, did you not? Granted him the power of the mirror, supported him—”

“I merely pointed him toward a path. It was his choice to walk it.”

“Nyx, you _raised_ him.”

“You would have done the same, in my place.”

“I…” Persephone sighed. “Yes, perhaps. But _might have done_ is not the same as _having_ done.” She took a step toward Night Incarnate, and when Nyx made no move to stop her, Persephone closed the distance. “There is a lot to resolve between us, Nyx, but please know I am not cross with you. In fact, I’m grateful!”

Persephone allowed herself a laugh. Nyx did not return it, nor did she smile. The queen's mirth faded, quickly as it had come.

“Please believe me, Nyx: I am so thankful for you," she said. "For all you have done for this house, for Zagreus—for _me_.”

“I did only what I thought was best. Your gratitude is… unwarranted.” Nyx shook her head; whether it was to dispel her own thoughts or deter Persephone from objecting, the queen wasn’t sure. Persephone reached for her, but Nyx drew back, her eyes downcast. 

It was the most emotion the goddess had shown in eons.

“Nyx,” said Persephone, “I know we are not as close as we once were. This whole situation—it is awkward, to say the least, and far from perfect. There is a lot yet to be said, and done, and I know things cannot go back to the way they were. But if my being here has made you upset, or if I have done something to offend you, I—”

“It is not that.”

Nyx had always felt large, her presence carrying the fullness of her domain and filling the room like nightfall. Now, though, she seemed small; diminished, in some way, drawing in on herself and away from Persephone. 

“I should have come for—” Nyx stopped. Course-corrected. “I should have sent word, at the least. That he yet lived. But when you left the way you did, so broken, so ready to forge your own path, it felt selfish of me to call you back. You were not made for this place. Even your love for your son would be as a shackle.” Nyx paused, her bright-gold eyes dimming. “I thought that if we were not enough to keep you here, then you deserved to find a home worthy of you.”

Persephone reached for her again, and this time Nyx let her hand be taken. Her skin was cool, smooth, soft; just as she remembered. 

"You've never asked for anything for your own sake, have you, my dear Nyx?" The question, soft as it was, seemed too loud in the silent garden. Nyx did not answer; she merely watched as Persephone threaded her fingers in hers and pulled her hand to her chest. “Did you ever think,” asked Persephone, “that it was I who was unworthy?”

“No.” The simplicity of the answer made Persephone laugh.

“Of course not. Nyx, my dear, for all your wisdom, you think far too highly of me.”

“Perhaps it is you who do not think highly enough of yourself.” Persephone opened her mouth to protest. But Nyx was smiling, soft as a night-blooming lily, and for a moment, the Queen of the Underworld forgot to breathe.

Instead, she leaned in, Nyx’s hair billowing in soft curls around her face. It brushed her cheeks, her neck, her own hair, a cloud of night sky and nebulas that caressed her skin like a lover’s touch. 

“I have missed you so,” she whispered. Persephone closed her eyes, letting scent and sound and touch guide her into Night’s embrace. Cool hands cupped her face, tilting her chin upward.

“And I you.” Gentle lips met her own. Persephone sighed against them, the weight of years spent apart falling away. Nyx drew back, then kissed her again; and again. And again.

“My queen. My dear. My Persephone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Twitter at [imagymnasia](http://twitter.com/imagymnasia).


End file.
